


my auto biography

by daughter_of_death



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28522404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughter_of_death/pseuds/daughter_of_death
Summary: so uh, my friend wanted me to write my auto b so i have and this is it, i would strap in if you want to read this because its a long story, and it aint a nice one either.
Relationships: None
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unicornsarederpy24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsarederpy24/gifts).



> this work has been beta'd by unicornsarederpy24  
> please leave kudos

The story of my life starts before my life even started. It started 4 years before I was born. It started when my mother was 18, and got pregnant by my 28 year old step-dad. She was pregnant with my oldest half-brother, Austin. It also started when my mom learned that my step-dad was an abuser, when he started abusing her. 

It started when she left him when my half brothers Austin and Sabin were 5 and 4,and when my step-dad rammed their car with his while my brothers, my mom and two of my mom's friends were in the car. All 3 pressed charges, and my step-dad went to jail. My grandma, his mother, however, bailed him out.

My life started when my mom met my dad, Robert, on the ship. My mom, step-dad and dad were all in the military. My mom later had an honorable discharge due to medical reasons, my step-dad retired after 20 years of service, and as far as I know my dad had a dishonorable discharge. He was a drug addict, and also drank a lot. 

My life started when my mom found out she was pregnant with me; she told Rob, who was still doing drugs at that point. When Austin was little, he and my dad were very close, Rob treating him like he was his own son. My dad never was able to have a son, only 4 daughters (as far as I know, there might have been more of us). 

When my mom went back to him, my step-dad was very happy because he has never been able to have sons, 5. He set up a lot of rules for my mom; he also tried to prevent my mom from talking to my dad. My mom had to do things such as hide in the bathroom to talk to my father and to tell him about me but even after I was born and he knew my gender, my dad continued to call me “it”, so my mom cut off all contact. 

She wasn't happy that he was calling me that and with all she was going through to be able to keep him in my life, I believe she just didn't think it was worth it; soon after that she changed her number. 

During my moms pregnancy with me, my step-dad would call her things such “whore” and “slut”, saying that even though they were seperated, she had pretty much cheated on him. 

My step-dad put his name on my birth certificate. After I was born, things did not get better. Eventually my step-dad brought his three other children from his first marriage. 

When my step-brothers arrived, things got worse. My step-dad was absent, leaving my mom to care for both her own kids and his. None of them listened to my mom, and anytime she would ask my step-dad for help he would either ignore her or start beating them. They stole things, skipped school and got into trouble. On top of that they were also getting abused by my step-dad. 

One of the more memorable things I can remember him doing to my step-brother, David, was that he would throw him at the wall. It would happen so much that he learned to bounce off “like a cat”, to quote David himself. He was the one who would tell me about this, when I was 14 years old and was still reconnecting with him after years of being apart. When David started bouncing off of the wall it made my step-dad furious, and he then started to beat him up in other ways.

Another thing that my step-dad would do to them was to make them (my step-brothers) fight each other. This continued for many years. Eventually, David was sent to Hawaii to keep him safe. He was being harassed by the other kids at school because he was gay, or so I have been told. I don’t remember how old he was, just that he was in high school at that time. 

Jason also went back to Hawaii after a fight with my mom; he had taken something of mine and they got into an argument. Jason had taken off, and with the word of my grandma in his ear he went to CPS. The case was dropped because the cops came to investigate his claim, but the proof of abuse Jason used was from a skateboarding accident days before. He had claimed my mom threw his shoe at him on the way out but it was on his foot.

Both were taken in by my grandma Edwina, my step-dad's mom. My step-brothers weren't the last to come to live with us, as my grandma edwina followed soon after them. Long before my step-brothers got sent away again. she was sent back, years after she got there. 

In some ways my grandma was worse than my step-dad. I came to expect my step-dad to be abusive, but finding out all of the things my grandma had done was a slap in the face. She would do things like beat my brothers with a pan, attempt to make my brother Austin eat a sandwich out of the trash, and feed me only mashed potatoes when I was young. 

When my parents tried to take me off of pacifiers, she would sneak more to me and give them to me. All the logic I can come up with for this (there isn’t much) is that maybe she didn’t want me to “grow up”.


	2. Chapter 2

When I was little me and her were very close, so close that I slept in her room and from what I cani remember we shared the same bed, which in hindsight was a big mistake. She would tell me awful and untrue stories about my mom, trash talk her to me and would try to turn me against her. These things led to a huge fight, one that I still remember vividly even though I was a young child and still in elementary school, this happening before I was even in second grade. 

I can remember my moms screaming and the chairs that were thrown around the upstairs level of the house. I can remember my moms cursing, and how enraged and pissed she was. I think one of the things that put the nail in the coffin for my mom was one situation that I can't remember fully and as such is mostly from the perspective of my mom. 

From what she tells me, she and my step-dad came home from work to find me and my grandma on the couch, her holding a towel to my bleeding head. I had somehow managed to cut my head open on something. Due to the wound on my head my memory is severely damaged, and for years I have remembered this accident in a way that it didn't happen. From what my memory is I can only guess that I combined two different memories. 

The cut to my head was so bad that it had to be stitched up. Had my grandma continued as she did, not calling my mom or step-dad nor taking me to the hospital, I would have died from the blood loss. 

For those who are curious, my memory of that incident is me running up the stairs to hug my step-dad, and slicing my head open on the railing, my grandma holding the towel to my head as he sits next to me on the couch. For years that is how I thought it happened, and it took asking my mom about it to finally find out what actually happened. That wasn't my only injury growing up; in fact I had many. 

To state one, around the same time as my head injury, I got really sick. I got so sick that I ended up in the hospital for some time. As time passed my memory of my time in the hospital faded, and now the most I can remember is the blood draws that I had to do (I was and still am afraid of needles) and the nice people who gave me a popsicle as I was being discharged (what? They were very nice and to a very frightened little girl it meant the world to me). I couldn’t remember what I was sick with but my mom did. From what she tells me it was dehydration and the flu. I had been sick for around two days before they took me to the hospital. 

Another time I got hurt was when my TV and dresser fell on my back when I was about 5 or 6. It was one of those old 20 pound box TV’s, and I had been climbing up my dresser to (possibly) get some underwear and it fell on me. My parents heard the TV fall and came to find out what happened. From what I can remember after the accident, I laid on the couch on my stomach with my mom’s blanket over me for about a day, although according to my mom I should have been down for longer. From what she told me, I hated to stay down. 

My oldest step-brother and my step-dad’s relationship took one of the biggest nose dives into the deep end when my sister-in-law got pregnant. Many things happened in that time. She started having panic attacks, and in one of the fights she got hit by my step-dad. After that my mom told my sister-in-law, Sandra, that it might be safer for her and my unborn niece to go back to live with her (Sandra’s) family. 

From what I can remember both Sandra and Danboy (my step-brother) were still in high school. When it was time for my niece to be born, my step-dad tried to keep Danboy from leaving to go be with her. He told him that he was grounded and that if he left he better not come back. He chose to leave. After that it was a fight for my step-brother to get any of his documents from my step-dad. My mom was the one who slipped them to him. 

Because of all that, things between them were rocky for a long time. Sandra and Danboy went on to have 2 more kids, another girl and then a boy. From them I have two nieces and one nephew. I love all 3. None of them call me Tia or aunt unless prompted, rather calling me by my name (as I prefer) since there isn't that much of an age gap between me and my oldest niece, her being in about 2nd or 3rd grade now and me being in 10th (as I am writing this).


	3. Chapter 3

When I was in second grade, my step-dad was stationed in San Diego, California. For around two months me, my mom and my brothers stayed in Illinois. After that my step-dad said that he wanted us there with him. He flew back to Illinois and then all of us, once we had everything packed, drove to San Diego. It was a week on the road. 

All of us, in one car. The most memorable thing i can remember on the trip, other than losing a trinket I had gotten on the way, was peeing myself. I wasn’t very in tune with my bladder at that age, and never quite understood that when I had to go it meant that I had to go. It took me a few years but I got it eventually. Good news is that I learned that I looked great with a hoodie or a jacket tied around my waist. I will not lie, writing this is making me laugh at a much younger me. 

Things in San Diego didn't get much better. Rather than having my step-brothers to abuse, my step-dad had us. My brothers got the physical side while I got the mental and emotional side. Though I did get some physical abuse, in the form of pots, pan, plates and bowls being hurled at my head. For what? I can't remember, only that it happened a fair bit. There were a lot of things that could set my step-dad off, after all. 

One of the times that I can remember was when me and Austin made an inside joke. He told me a story that I can no longer remember. The main idea of it was that, if you put some water on this paper towel, and hit it in between the crack that there is between our tall and short table then we will get a wish. I don't know where he got the story, since after all this time and me being much older than I was, realise it was completely made up. But I don't care much, despite the ending to that memory, it was one of the only times me and my brother got along, so I enjoy the memory anyway. 

After dinner had finished that night, and all of the cleaning had been done, I made the mistake of asking Austin about the towel. When we were putting it there my brother made me swear not to tell anyone about it, so when my step-dad asked I did not tell him. Because of that me and Austin spent the next few hours being yelled at. I can remember crying as my face was leaning on the crack between the wall and the fridge, we had both been put in the corner. One of the things I can remember my step-dad screaming was that I was becoming a liar just like my brothers, and that his little girl was lying to him just like they were (I was still in second grade when this happened).

Despite me being so young when the abuse started, I always hated what my step-dad was doing to my brothers. Many times I would yell at him to stop and attempt to stop him, but my mom would pull me back everytime and send me upstairs. I would always hate that, because me and him shared a room, a bed and a bathroom. Now, after talking to my mom I can better understand why she did what she did, since he would get so angry that if I had ever gotten close to him like that, he would have killed me. No jokes, no exaggerations. He would have truly killed me. 

As I said before, the memory of that event with Austin was one of the only times he and I got along, the only other time being when our mom was in the hospital. Throughout my whole life, my mom has been in and out of the hospital. Her medical problems ranged from blood clots, to multiple strokes. Almost all of her visits would have her in the hospital for two or more weeks at a time. 

During that time, me and my brothers were able to put it all aside and take care of each other. One of the more memorable times was when me and Austin stayed home and played on his Xbox. I can’t truly remember if that is one of the times he had his girlfriend over, or if we did it twice while my mom was in the hospital that time. This happened when I lived in Illinois for the second time. 

Another thing that happened while I was still in San Diego was me going to the police. As it is, it did not turn out well. Nothing happened, I was sent back home and I got punished. Sometimes I look back on that and think about what would have happened if I had been more forceful and stuck with it. I don’t know if anything would have changed, or if it simply would have meant that my mom had no support for the coming times. Often i have to remind myself that it's now over and there isn't much that i can do about it. What happened, happened. After that I never went to the police again. 

When I was half way through fourth grade, my dad got sent out to sea, and as such myself, my mom and my brothers went to West Virginia, we went to live with my nana and pappy. Both of them lived in a trailer park at the time, so for the rest of my fourth grade year, so did we. My mom and brother slept in one room, my grandparents slept in there and me and sabin often fought for the couch. Whoever didn't get it got the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> email me at cvycotrea@gmail.com if you want to request a fic or come join my writing server. Link: https://discord.gg/qQVRfmjsQz


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